Remember
by Friendly Feanorian
Summary: Tuor remembers a lost friend and those who were most important to him.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: The Usual disclaimer._

_I have drawn upon the Silmarillion and The Book of Lost Tales 2(for some detail) in the writing of this story. Thanks also to the assistance of Tolkien Gateway_.

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_**Remember**_

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Summer, Year 525

My Son,

I did not know my father or even my mother. When I was young, I yearned to know them even so. I am told by many that my father was a great hero, yet that is not what the heart longs to know. Knowledge _about_ the life events of a person is not the same as knowledge _of_ the person.

The years lengthen here in Arvernien, and you are now a grown man. Our desperate escape from Gondolin must seem a distant memory for you. Your mother will not speak of it, nor will she stand near when I do, so instead I have decided to write down for you the things that you ought to remember.

Yestereve, when I asked you if you remembered your mother's father who was none other than the king of Gondolin, you thought for a while and asked if he was the one with the tall pointed helm who used to make you flutes. I said nay, and your mother began to cry. That was Ecthelion, the King's advisor who died fighting in the king's square against the great balrog.

I can understand your mother's tears. She does not understand the way our memories flounder with long distant events. You do not remember the great High King of the Noldor, King of Gondolin called 'The Wise' who was all of those things and so much more. He was your grandfather and his delight in you was shadowed only by grief of things beyond words.

To begin with, Turgon High King of the Noldor was tall, dark haired and grey eyed. But that will not tell you enough to distinguish him from any Noldo you might meet. I would have to say he was handsome, beautiful even, but that describes most of the Eldar also. He was not often wont to smile, save when in the presence of his family, and so tended to have a stern countenance. Gilgalad puts me in mind of him a little, with his fierce determination and resolute defiance of the enemy, but little in appearance, unless it be something around the eyes and brow. Turgon had much love for those around him and had much love returned. I came to love him as what I imagine it is to love a father. I like to think that he came to think of me as a son – strange though that may be given that he was of the Elder race and I was a mere mortal.

I have written these pages for you so that you will have a record for yourself and others that will remember more of the great Noldo who was King of Gondolin. The history books of the Eldar tend to record events with what seems to be little warmth, but this is not from coldness of heart as many may have thought, but from deep sorrow and loss that cannot bear to recall their grief to mind. But for you and I, these things are part of what makes these stories real and the people in them truly alive.

We must not forget that these stories record the events of those who lived and breathed and danced and slept and cried and laughed. And despaired. And were lost in the end. And it seems to us who knew them that our hearts would stop beating for sadness.

I will tell you now the great story of the Fall of Gondolin and its King, as I witnessed these events. I will tell you of the one I wish you would remember.

Your Father

Tuor, son of Huor, of the House of Hador

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Please R&R. I have tried to be as accurate as possible, but let me know if I have made any cannonical erros.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Year 496 of the Sun**

I was with Voronwe the first time I met the King of Gondolin. He could have prepared me.

The city of Gondolin has been described by many, but none truly do it justice. I have been told that it is as beautiful as Tirion, but I cannot verify that report. I can only say that from on high, the city nestled in the vale of Tumladen like a white lilly on a green pond. As we approached I could discern the roadways, the gates, the buildings and towers. And the fountains. I will never forget the fountains. I don't know what art of engineering the Noldor employed to create such things, but they were something to see. Beside the roadway that approached the city, was a lake with fountains around its edge and a great one in the centre. But I am getting carried away. Let the poets tell you of Gondolin's beauties.

I had never seen so many of the Eldar gathered around us. There was a lot of cheering and a feel of excitement in the air like salt spray on a summers day. At first I thought it was for my companion, but when I dared to glance around me, I noticed that many of the smiles and incredulous looks were directed at me. If not for the message that I was bidden to bring to the King, I think my courage would have left me. As it was, my eyes and ears were filled with the sounds and sights around me so that I must have looked like a bewildered child to the Gondolindrim.

I was brought to the King's court and there Voronwe and I awaited the King's pleasure. The King's pleasure seemed to take an inordinately long time – I had to wonder what it is that kings have to do that consumes so much time. Perhaps it is merely to impress upon their supplicants the gravity of their petitions. I have to say that I am not proud of the thoughts and fears that ran through my mind while we waited. I imagined that I would deliver Ulmo's words and then he would have me executed or at least thrown into prison for my presumption – to speak to the King! A King of the Noldor. When I was but an orphaned mortal wanderer. I banished these thoughts from my mind by looking at some of the King's own artwork. Many have described the two trees, images of the Two Trees of Valinor, so I will not add to them here. I will only say that their marvellous construction fascinated me, and I determined to learn more of this artform – presuming that I indeed survived this encounter.

It was then that the King appeared himself, descending from his tower to meet us in the courtyard, as gracious as any lord of a manor welcoming a long absent friend. I could not help but be taken with him, even at first sight. In his white and gold, carrying a great staff and crowned with a gold crown set with red gems, he looked more like one of the Powers of the West, and not merely one of the exiled Noldor. Beside the King on his right was another Noldo price, somewhat alike to the King in appearance. I guessed that he must be the King's kinsman. His eyes, however, held nothing of the King's warmth, but something akin to disdain and wilful arrogance. I did not know it then, but he was to be the only stain on my life in Gondolin. On the King's left was a lady so beautiful that she made my breath catch in my throat to look at her. But she did not smile and I tore my eyes away from her reluctantly.

He welcomed me and his voice made me tremble for its sad sweetness, like two melodies blended together by elf minstrels. For an instant, my heart faltered completely and I thought that I would die under the gaze of those eyes, but then something else took hold of me. I heard again the voice of Ulmo repeating the message that he had given me in Nevrast, and I was amazed for I knew that the Vala was not present. When there was silence, I perceived that all eyes were studying me with awe and I realised that the voice I had heard speaking was my own.

Yet the King refused Ulmo's summons. What this might mean, I as yet had no understanding. I had delivered the message. And looking around the city, I could well understand his refusal. Such work and beauty – who could give that up? However, the King did impose new restrictions upon his citizens – they were not to approach even the bases of the surrounding mountains and the passage by which Voronwe and I had entered was to be permanently sealed.

No one could now enter or leave.

For myself, I spent the days of my new life learning from the people of Gondolin and especially Voronwe. When I felt the need for peace, I escaped to the court of the King and listened to the great fountain. The King himself seemed to take a liking to me and I was welcome even in the palace, orphaned mortal as I was. For the first time, I had news of my father, which felt strange and familiar at the same time. But I was glad to have it – like a long lost heirloom but far more valuable.

And it was in the King's palace and the courtyard that I had occasions to be in the company of the Idril the 'silverfoot', the daughter of the King.

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**Sorry for the delay folks. This tale is proving to be more challenging than I first anticipated.**


	3. Chapter 3

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**Year 498 of the Sun**

The Oath of Feanor, Melkor, Manwe, Doriath, Nargothrond, battles of sudden flame, of unnumbered tears and a year of lamentation. The birth of strange events and strange beings. All were swirling around in my mind until I felt as if my head would overflow. So much grief, loss and …I needed time to myself so I headed for the court of the king. There was a little niche in the north of the gardens that few others knew of. I would not be disturbed for a while at least and I could collect my thoughts.

But I was disturbed.

"Stop it! I do not love you! Nor will I ever! Let go of me…let go!"

A woman's voice, from the other side of the wall. She sounded angry and a little frightened. Were women not safe even here? I stood up to investigate. Women should never be forced upon. Not ever.

"Why?" asked a masculine voice. My blood ran chill. I thought I recognised him. "Am I not beautiful? Am I not a prince of the Noldor? I can offer you much…"

"You are my cousin! And even if you were not, I do not love you! I do not want anything that you offer!"

I had to admire the woman's courage. Maeglin I had marked already as determined and powerful amongst the Gondolindrim. The King's own nephew and heir.

This woman who called him cousin must be the King's daughter…Idril if I recalled correctly.

Maeglin's voice became quieter so that I had to strain to listen. "Come little princess…sample what I am offering you…"

I heard a tearing of fabric and something quailed within me. I remembered Lorgan with his slave women…

I stepped quickly around the wall, hoping to make my appearance seem coincidental. Maeglin would make a difficult enemy. But any man who tears a woman's dress has to be stopped before he takes his intentions any further.

But the scene that met me was not quite what I had imagined, and I was forced to reconsider my assessment of Maeglin for the time being, at least.

Idril was much taller than I thought. She was standing with all her weight pulling away from her cousin and with a look of such fearless defiance that I began to doubt that she needed my aid. I looked at the prince. He had hold of one of her wrists and was pressing her hand to his bare – and quite impressively built – chest. His tunic was torn where Idril had sought to pull away. I learned later that the Eldar may tear another's clothing as an insult, much in the way a human woman so insulted and angry might slap a suitor who over stepped his mark.

I was at a loss for words.

Maeglin was not.

"What do you want?" he sneered at me.

I had never seen one of the Elda kin sneer before. I stared.

Idril used the momentary distraction to pull away. She stood as tall as her frame would allow – which was almost as tall as I – and glared at her cousin. He golden hair had become dislodged from its bindings during the exchange and her cheeks were flushed with fury. So great was her anger that she could not keep her chest from heaving nor her fists from clenching at her sides. I thought she might strike him. Part of me almost hoped that she would.

I had never met a woman like this princess of Gondolin. All the human women I had met had been hopelessly cowed and timid. The women of Annael's folk were reserved and gentle. But this one was like a lioness.

I think I loved her at that moment.

I realised that I had been staring at her when Maeglin let out a furious roar.

"What do you want, _mortal_ Oaf?" he taunted me.

I waited a moment more to heighten his outrage, then I said: "Forgive my intrusion, my prince." Then I added a slightly overdone bow. "I thought that the Lady was in difficulty. My poor, simple, mortal mind forgot that I was no longer among the outlaws of the outer lands. I had forgotten that I was in the Elda city of Gondolin, where women are never treated with anything less than honour and dignity and need have no fear for their safety. Please forgive my clumsy intrusion."

I glanced at the Lady Idril as I spoke and to my utter surprise, she smiled at me. Maeglin noticed her reaction too, before she could conceal it behind her hand. I thought he was going to explode but instead, after a long moment, he turned on his heel and walked away towards the King's Tower. I wondered what he would tell the king of me and how much of his tale would be true.

I was left alone with the princess studying me closely.

For the first time I felt like an ill-bred donkey among the thoroughbreds and began to make an excuse to leave the princess in peace. She spoke while I was mid bow.

"Do all mortals have hairy faces?" she asked.

This woman seemed to have a talent for catching me completely off guard.

"We sprout beards just before full growth," I told her, rubbing my chin.

"You are not very old, then?"

"No," I laughed.

"You find me comical?"

"No, My Lady."

"Eldar," she pronounced the word proudly, "Do not grow beards until they are very old. Even Father does not have one."

"Indeed not, My Lady." Despite my earlier success, I seemed to be incapable of saying anything that pleased her.

"I have not had much occasion to study the ways of mortals," she said. "You will instruct me."

She must have read something in my expression – the Eldar are very adept at this – for she quickly added: "I mean, of course, if you please. We have had reports from some of our Sindar kin that I would like to better understand."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but any excuse to be in her company was acceptable to me so I agreed.

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Apologies for the delay folks. There was a lot more timeline research for this story than I anticipated. Thanks to TolkienGateway for their assistance.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Next Day**

I knew the summons to the presence of the king could not be about anything good when it was delivered before sunrise. The king was well aware that I would still be asleep at that hour. I believed I could guess what the king wanted to discuss.

"Tour, son of Huor of the House of Hador." The Door warden announced me as I entered.

The King of Gondolin's throne room was at the top of his tower and boasted a magnificent view of Tumladen. No doubt the piercing eyesight of the Eldar could discern much of what passed in his realm from this vantage. But I could not truly have called it a room as mankind understands it. There was a roof – domed and carved – but no walls to speak of. Only ornate pillars carved with the likeness of birch trunks and no railings in between. I glanced through the openings uneasily. The stars still winked faintly as the sky lightened sending the first shafts of light into the King's Tower, while the rest of the valley remained in shadow. We seemed to be so high over the land. How easily one could fall – but great heights do not seem to trouble the Eldar.

The King's throne stood in the middle of the room on a raised platform. The room was empty except for the King himself and, of course, Maeglin. To my surprise and concern there was no sign of Idril.

"Tuor, son of Huor, you have been my guest and have had much learning of the Gondolindrim," the King's voice seemed strained and sad. "You have earned a high standing in my regard. Am I to understand that in return you offer insult to my house? Speak. Explain yourself."

I glanced quickly at Maeglin. His face was impassive, but I kept picturing a smirk hiding behind his features.

"My King, your kindness and hospitality has no equal. If you speak of the incident of yesterday, I must offer explanation by means of a misunderstanding. I heard a quarrel but did not know that it was your nephew and heir who spoke. If I had known it was he – and not some common churl – I would have acted differently."

The King raised his eyebrows and I noticed Maeglin stiffen at his side.

"You speak boldly, Son of Huor," the King answered, but I suspected that under his grave veneer there was a degree of admiration – and even amusement. "Few are brave enough to speak thus to the King. I suppose that you feel your anger towards Maeglin was justified."

Maeglin shifted at the King's side, barely able to contain his rage.

"My King," I knew that I would have to be very careful here. "I suspect that may have misunderstood your nephew's words and actions. The customs of the Edain and those of the Sindar are somewhat removed from those of the Noldor of Gondolin. I misunderstood the prince's intentions towards the Lady Idril."

"My intentions are well known to the King!" Maeglin could contain himself no longer.

The king placed a gentle hand on his nephew's forearm. I noticed Maeglin twitch slightly, as if even such a small contact stung him. For a moment the steely proud gaze faltered and I wondered what it was that truly drove the prince.

"My son," the King addressed Maeglin, withdrawing his hand. "I will enlighten the Adan to the subtleties of life in Gondolin. Go now and join Idril. She is usually taking a morning stroll along the Alley of Roses."

Maeglin looked as if he would protest, but the lure of Idril's company was stronger and he left, striding past me with a glare. I kept my face calm.

"Come," the King said to me after Maeglin's footsteps had retreated. "Walk with me in the Square."

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The Kings Square was also empty but for the guards. I wondered vaguely why the King even needed guards here. But now was not the time to let my mind wander. I had no desire for a close examination of the Caragdur, so I needed to find a way to appease the King.

"Maeglin does not like you." The King surprised me with his directness.

After a moment I answered. "I have not given him any cause to be my enemy."

That was true. Maeglin had nurtured a strong hostility towards me from the moment he set eyes upon me that first day in this very same square.

Patches of sunlight were beginning to grow as the sun climbed higher in the sky. We stepped into one of them. The early morning light caught the King's robes, shrouding him in brilliant light. I blinked, mildly dazzled.

"Tuor, son of Huor, often I am tempted to forget that you are of the race of the Edain and not one of the Eldar kindred," he said watching me as I tried to adjust my eyes so that I could see him properly. "I loved your father well and hold your race in positive regard. I fear that Maeglin does not."

I thought carefully.

"Nothing I do will ever please him," I said, chancing that the King would appreciate directness.

He seemed to. "Indeed. Maeglin is a great comfort to me. The son I never had. Yet I am not blind to his deficiencies."

Something gave a little tug under my ribs. Too vague to be clear, but a definite warning of my heart.

"I have hope," the King continued. "That Maeglin will grow in wisdom and learn to value things other than power and the admiration of those around him. He is the only heir that I have. I will have no son of my own. The Eldar do not marry more than once in our lives."

Of course, I thought. The King has no wife, no son. I thought I detected a note of deep sadness in his voice.

No wife, no son. Nothing left but a longing.

We mortals have a tendency to think ourselves lacking compared to the Eldar, yet I have learned that there are some things in which we have the advantage. The men of the Eldar and the Edain have in common the desire for son and heir, be they a king or a woodman. But a mortal man who has lost his spouse may take another and still have a son, even in old age. The Eldar cannot.

I began to suspect that the King of Gondolin had a vulnerability in his character – this longing for issue, for a student of himself that is _of _himself. A son of his flesh and blood.

Maeglin was as close as he would ever get to a son of his body and this made him dear to the king's heart. Maeglin also had the advantage of very Noldorin appearance (an advantage he no doubt pressed) but I suspected that his character had less nobility.

"Maeglin intends to wed my daughter, Idril," the King continued. "And I have not opposed it."

"Forgive me, Lord King, but I am unfamiliar with the customs of the Eldar," I said, perplexed. "Among the Edain, the custom is that those so closely akin may not marry. Is it not so among the Eldar?"

"It is unusual, but not forbidden."

I felt something inside me twist all the same.

"What of the Lady Idril's wishes?" I asked. I had recalled to mind her words of the previous day.

"She is adamantly against his suit. She will not discuss why." The King suddenly smiled broadly. "Women folk are such mysterious creatures, are they not? I do not understand their whims or fancies."

Idril's rejection of Maeglin was hardly a 'fancy'. I had already gauged her as a woman not given to such infantile games. Great Valar, the poor woman! Pressured to marry her cousin whom she clearly despised. All alone among a court full of men.

"Perhaps she knows her mind," I ventured.

The King frowned at me and then shook his head. "She is a girl. Her heart alights hither and thither like a butterfly. She will change her mind."

I turned away quickly then. I did not want the King to see the denial that had unexpectedly surged through me.

Later, after I had taken my leave of the king, I retreated to my nook in the square to turn the morning's events over in my mind. I thought of the slave women I had seen in Lorgan's service; the women and young girls I had left behind to a most ignoble fate.

I decided that I would do all that I could to protect Idril.

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Please R&R!


	5. Chapter 5

**Year 499 of the Sun**

Life continued with all its unremarkable daily events, challenges and interruptions until word came to us in the winter of 499 of the fall of Nargothrond and the deaths of Orodreth and his daughter by the dragon Glaurung. The king gave us the news with his head bowed.

"It is thought that at least Orodreth's son lives," he finished.

"The dragon will be no threat to us," Maeglin said. "Our defences are secure."

The king did not appear to have heard him. His eyes remained fixed on his hands, his hair falling loosely either side of his face, the firm jaw losing some of its tautness. I dropped to one knee in front of him so that my eyes were level with his. I felt my own heart ache to look at him. So much loss in one lifetime – albeit an Eldarin lifetime. I realised that there was another disadvantage to the life of the Eldar – a long life span was likely to be fraught with losses.

"One by one my kin disappear," the king's voice seemed to come from the bottom of a well; his eyes met mine for a brief moment and grief lanced through my mind.

"They were either careless or foolish, My King," Maeglin said from behind and above me. I wished that he would keep the coldness out of his voice. "You are neither."

Again, the King did not appear to hear. I delved through my mind for the right words.

"My King," I began slowly, but Ulmo gifted me with no perfect words this time. "I do not know what it is to lose my kin, I have had none that I remember, only a cousin whom I have never met and we have heard that he is now dead. But I do believe that we can honour their memories by going on with life and that if they truly loved us, they would want us to do so."

The king was silent and I thought that my clumsy words had brought none of the comfort that I desperately wished. I stepped back and stood up. I had earned myself a conceited smirk from Maeglin, but I did not care. A thought occurred to me that these were Maeglin's kin also, but the prince seemed quite unmoved.

The king's voice brought back my attention with a jolt.

"Do you know," he said, "that I knew Orodreth when he was an infant. His father was so proud. We talked together of what he would become when he was grown and his father planned what he would teach him as he grew. We never planned how we would proceed after he was gone to Mandos and beyond our reach."

The king abruptly stood up and clasped a hand to my shoulder.

"You wish to offer me comfort," he said and for a moment I feared that I had overstepped my place, but his eyes were suddenly kind. "There is no comfort for death, only the drawing close of those who are still with us." He stood silently for a moment studying me. "I am truly blessed to have you near, Tuor son of Huor."

I found my heart warming until Maeglin fixed me with a glare icy enough to immobilise me for a millennia. He turned on his heal and hastily departed the chamber, closing the door behind him smartly. The King watched him go.

"He still struggles to understand emotion properly, even after so many years with us," the King said. "We can only guess at the torments of his childhood that led him to this."

He turned to me and our eyes met. After three seasons in Gondolin, I found that I did not need to look away.

"Yet the son of Huor finds generosity in all circumstances," he continued. "I understand that you and my daughter have had many talks together. Tell me how she fares for she hides her heart from me these days."

It was true. Idril had wished to learn much of the ways of the Edain and while this had bewildered me at first, I enjoyed the opportunity to be in her company.

"She was curious about the differences between her people," I said. "I hope that I was able to clarify our ways."

The King surprised me by chuckling in the sweet way that elves do. "That is not what I meant. She has long been intrigued by the story of Beren and Luthien. We had not thought that such things could be possible, yet Luthien has borne Beren a son. It is quite remarkable."

I was not entirely sure where this line of conversation was going or why he had chosen this moment to take it up. The King was not given to idle words but I began to feel uncomfortable, as if the spacious room had suddenly lost all ventilation. I could think of no response.

Eventually the King continued. "I have also observed that my daughter's mood is much lighter after your lessons. I think that she will need your good humour in the coming weeks."

I realised I had been holding my breath. I released it as quietly as I could.

"It would be my pleasure and honour to serve the Princess, my King."

He answered with a clasp of my shoulder and turned towards the window. It was my cue to leave him alone with his grief. I took one last look at him as I opened the door.

Only the Eldar can match the perfect stillness of a carven form. Leaning against the window frame was a lean figure with his head bowed and shoulders slumped, long unbound hair curtaining his face. For a moment, I almost remained with him.

But thoughts of Idril – possibly already alone with Maeglin – drew me away.

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Please R&R!


	6. Chapter 6

**Year 501 of the Sun**

Idril certainly was deep in grief over the fall of Nargothrond and her lost kin. I am given to understand that dead Eldar may return to life, if permitted by the powers, yet this seems of little comfort to those in Beleriand. For one thing, it may be some time before they return. For another, they can only return to life in Aman, the undying lands. The result is, or so Idril told me, that they will most certainly not see them again soon. Possibly never; for some never return to life.

We did have some news that seemed to please Idril late in 500. Dior, the son of Beren the Adan and Luthien the princess of Doriath, and his wife Nimloth were now parents to two sons born together. Twins, we would call them, but among the Eldar this has occurred so rarely that they do not have a word for it. Instead they must say 'together-brother' or something like that.

"How sweet," she said, as we walked together along the north wall of the King's Square. The perfume of roses drifted towards us on the breeze. "Imagine two little ones to love and cuddle!"

It was the first time I had ever heard her speak this way. She was not normally given to sentiment, being a woman of deep thought and fierce courage. I was at a loss for words for this new mood of hers. Women are bewildering creatures! Especially those of the Eldar.

"Perhaps you will one day have a child of your own?" I ventured. What on earth is one supposed to say in this kind of discourse? I suspected that Idril must be lonely for other women with whom to discuss such things.

It must not have been quite what she wanted to hear.

"Why do men not care for such things?" she scolded, but in the way that I had come to learn meant that she was not truly angry.

"It is women's business," I said.

"You sound like Father! You must spend less time with him and more with me." Now she sounded as if she was becoming angry. Or at least frustrated. Apparently my answers were not the one's she wanted.

"As you wish, My Lady," I said, hoping the use of formal title would appease her.

It did not.

"Tell me, Tuor son of Huor," she stopped walking and faced me squarely. He hair was unbound today and a light breeze caught it. I noticed that she often wore her hair unbound when we were together. Ever since I had complimented her on it to cheer her – I understand women enjoy such observances! – on the morning after she had just finished a particularly blistering encounter with Maeglin, the morning of the news of Nargothrond.

"Tuor, chosen of Ulmo and Lord of the House of the Wing of Gondolin most favoured of the King, you are the most obstinate and difficult of creatures!" Idril bawled like an angry Adan woman.

What had I done?

I looked at her, waiting for an explanation for my apparent stupidity.

"I have spent nearly every morning with you, walking these gardens and talking of great and small things, for the last two sun-years and you persist in pretending that you do not know?"

Truly, I did not. I dared not say so, so I lowered my gaze instead. She continued.

"Can you say that you do not love me as I love you?"

She snatched my hand and pressed it to her cheek.

"Will you not love me?" she asked.

The skin under my palm was so soft that I could barely detect it. I was closer to the princess than I had ever been, and I noticed the sweet scent that surrounded her. Her eyes were closed, but her features composed; waiting for me to answer. Then I forgot that we were in the king's own square, within view of the King's tower and the palace, and any number of passers-by and I kissed the Princess Idril's lips as firmly as I dared kiss anything so delicate.

And this was how I found myself in conversation with the King of Gondolin regarding marriage to his only daughter.

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My skin turned icy cold.

"So, Mortal, you think you will marry my daughter? A princess of the Noldor who was grown and mature before your people had even crossed the mountains into Beleriand?" The King had his back to me pretending to observe something in the distance. We happened to be standing near to the Caragdur, a proximity that was making me exceedingly nervous. I kept as much distance as I dared. At least Maeglin was not there. Nor was anyone else. The King had spared me public humiliation.

"Speak, Mortal, I command you!"

I swallowed hard, until I thought the lump in my throat would pass down into my chest.

"My King, although I am a mere orphaned mortal and your guest honoured beyond deserving, I love your daughter with all that I am. I would be her husband if that were possible, but I will be obedient to your will, as in all things."

I still hoped to avoid the Caragdur if possible. Perhaps he would take pity on me and only send me to the most distant outpost…

"I cannot exile you from Gondolin for your impertinence. Nor can I have you executed, since Idril begs for mercy for you most piteously."

He turned to me sharply, his features unreadable.

"So, what am I to do with you? You who have been as a son to me?"

This was all very confusing.

He marched towards me.

"And how would you be a husband to my daughter, Tuor son of Huor?"

I thought for a moment.

"As any man is a husband to his wife." I hoped that was enough.

It was not.

"Where do you plan to live?"

"In the house you have given to me. It is sufficiently large."

"Indeed. And how do you plan to provide for her after you are gone to old age and death?"

"The princess does not need anything in the way of provision. She is a princess of Gondolin and entitled to be cared for by her people, whether she is married or widowed."

"And how do you plan to provide her with the babes she so desires?"

_Merciful Valar, is he really asking me that?_

I could not bring myself to make an answer. I looked around at the ground, feeling my face burning with heat. The king could not be so ignorant of such matters…

I glanced up at him, perspiration now running down my temples, hoping for a hint for what to say next.

The King's expression was still unreadable. I looked away, seriously considering throwing myself from the Caragdur…

Laughter, as clear and refreshing as the fountains at our backs drenched me like summer rain.

The King was holding his hand to me and I took it nervously. No doubt he would notice the moisture on my palm as well as the sheen on my face.

"Come, my son," he peered intently into my face, having enjoyed his jest immensely. "We must make plans for a wedding. Idril will have no less than the best we have to offer, since she is so determined to be married at last."

And so the Princess Idril and I were wed the following year, an event greatly celebrated by all.

Except Maeglin.

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**Please R&R! Not sure about the Quenya for 'twin' but I can't find it. Please correct me if I am wrong!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Year 502 of the Sun**

It is surprising how well we of the Edain remember clearly days or events that are important. Or they attain prominence in our memories after we understand their significance, even if we do not appreciate the significance immediately.

For instance, the day of my wedding to Idril stays etched in my memory as clearly as I imagine all memories are for the Eldar. It is difficult to imagine having memories of all you days kept clear and fresh in the mind. Likewise, it must be difficult for the Eldar to imagine fading memory. Idril frowned when trying to understand that many things slip from my memory, like where I left the wine goblet she had brought me earlier or what I had worn to the last formal banquet (she considered it important that the same thing not be worn twice in a row for some reason). Sometimes I teased her and asked her where she left her shoes (but only if she was not in one of her vexed moods).

Otherwise, our life together was much as you would have imagined. Idril joined me on my many meditations on the balcony, sometimes tucking herself under my arm in a way that endeared her to me more than ever.

We saw little of Maeglin. He seemed to have found other occupation to distract him and I for one was glad to be free of his presence at court. Even the King seemed to be more relaxed and content in his role, lonely though I had often thought he must be.

He regularly invited me to accompany him on his many journeys made by horseback around his realm (it is important for a king to be seen by his people) and often Idril came with us. But on this occasion, she had remained at home, excusing herself as being 'out of sorts'.

I reported this to the King when he inquired and he responded with a raised eyebrow and a smile. Apparently I had missed some other subtle communication of the Eldar and I resolved to ask Idril when I returned home. Communication is one of the most difficult aspects of living with the Eldar. One is never quite sure if one is receiving everything. Or giving away more than intended.

We made our way out to the boundaries of Tumladen, the King wishing to reinforce his prohibition on activity near to the feet of the mountains. Temptation sometimes yielded disobedience and he seemed to have a feeling of unease for which he was hoping to identify the cause.

The people of Gondolin stopped their work and waved and smiled at us as we passed. This welcome still surprised me a little, but the King assured me that my recent marriage and memory of my father caused them to hold me in high regard. I still do not think that I deserved it.

We rounded a bend in the road that skirted a projection of rock and Ecthelion gave the order to halt. Someone had been discovered out of bounds.

Ecthelion rode back towards our party, with four men-at-arms escorting a small group of black clad Eldar. I notice that several of the group were carrying shovels, picks and lanterns. Mining tools.

"My King," Ecthelion approached the King's horse. "These men were discovered near one of the old mine entrances."

"Bring them forward," the King gestured wearily. Even I felt the unease of the situation. The words of Ulmo surfaced in my mind like a drowned animal.

The leader of the group stepped forward and removed his head covering (the miners of the Noldor wear a kind of light helm with a fabric covering to protect them from debris while they work).

It was Maeglin.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. _Maeglin?_

I glanced at the King. His face was unreadable. But for a moment I felt waves of disappointment and shock wash over me – and disbelief.

After a number of years in Gondolin and close association with only Eldar, I was beginning to acquire some of their traits – including the ability to sense their emotions on occasion (as they could sense mine). The emotions that had washed over me were coming from the King. Grief menaced him like a stalking warg, but he sought to evade it.

Maeglin glanced at me, but I could discern nothing of _his_ mood. The Eldar can block others from reading their thoughts, if they wish. I supposed he was doing so.

"My King," Maeglin addressed his uncle sweetly. I almost felt ill. "Is there some difficulty? May not your sister-son and heir move about your realm as he pleases?"

"Maeglin," the King swallowed. "What are you doing here?"

Maeglin smiled smoothly. "Why only searching for the metals we require for our work to beautify and enhance Gondolin and enrich its people." He hesitated, showing an injured expression. "Can it be that my activities have once again been misunderstood?"

I felt bile rising in my throat, but the King seemed to relax.

"Of course, Maeglin," he said at length. "You would never do anything to harm Gondolin or its people. Please forgive our interruption."

Something tilted the world out of balance, and if I had been on my feet instead of my horse I would have stumbled. This moment should have been the first warning sign that Maeglin was not all that he seemed.

At the time however, such anxieties were driven from my mind. When I returned home with a half-formed idea of sharing my misgivings with my wife, she instead informed me that with the coming year I would be a father. The news seemed to render all other issues unimportant and I found myself so enraptured to Idril's presence for the time being that I all but forgot about Maeglin.

The only thing that marred our joy was news that came a few months later that Thingol, the King of Doriath since long before any of the Noldor had come to Beleriand, had been murdered by a rogue band of dwarves. We could not imagine how this had come to be – surely the King had a personal guard? – but he was dead and Melian the Maia had gone back to the Undying Lands.

These two events occupied our minds so fully that we failed to recognise that Maeglin was sinking further into dark thoughts and secret plans.

Gondolin was as beautiful as a living dream and our leader was gracious and wise and beloved by his people. It never occurred to us that anyone would plot to destroy the city and murder the King.

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Please R&R!


	8. Chapter 8

**Year 503 of the Sun**

Babes of any race are remarkable creatures. Earendil did not cry or fuss as much as I had expected. It may be that the children of the Eldar are more placid than Edain infants because in general, he did not cry unless he had suffered some kind of hurt (and he never suffered anything beyond the smallest of injuries) or unless he was frightened. Or angry.

But I will get back to that.

When newborn, he was barely the length of my forearm, but his bright blue eyes and head crowned of pale fluff had me enraptured immediately. And everyone else. He had the beauty and radiance of the Eldar, but something about his tiny brow spoke of the Edain also.

At first I found myself anxious when anyone else made to hold him – he was so tiny after all. When Idril placed him in the King's big arms I thought he would surely be crushed. How could such big arms and hands do anything else? But Idril smiled and assured me that not only were infants more sturdy than they appeared, but her father had handled small ones before. It brought to my imagination the many years they had spent alive before my life even began. Many years with which to become well acquainted with babes (and any number of other things) and their ways. I felt ashamed of my ignorance and over protectiveness.

The King caught my eye and smiled.

"He is a handsome child, Tuor. You must be proud," he said in a low, throaty voice.

Earendil seemed to take an especial liking to his mother-father, for he chose that moment to coo and wave his tiny hands for attention. I had always thought that infants merely slept and ate. I did not know that they could communicate when so young! But again, perhaps it is an ability of Eldar children.

The King glanced back at the tiny bundle of awkwardly waving hands and smiled with a warmth that made my heart ache. He smiled so rarely that it seemed to change his face entirely – suddenly beautiful once again, in the way of the Eldar.

"He is halfelven," he pronounced softly. "The most remarkable of all creatures. We are blessed by your birth Earendil Ardamire." With that he placed a kiss on the tiny forehead. Earendil brought smiles to all present with an infant's sweet giggle.

I am sure that human newborns do not giggle. Earendil had the wisdom and capacity of mind that the Eldar have. I suddenly wondered how I could be a father to him with my limits. Yet I am told that all father's feel inadequate to their task. I hoped that I would be able to meet whatever challenges fate brought to my family.

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The first year of Earendil's life was as joyful and as blissful as I imagine life to be in the lands of the Valar oversea. Between us, Idril and I watched as our son quickly learned to talk and to walk; and to my amazement, to dance. Apart from his still small size, he could run and talk as well as any adult. The chief danger while in the court of the King was that he may be either stepped upon or knocked down by an adult not detecting his presence at their feet. At first, this was where I placed the blame for the growing anxiety that crept upon me day by day.

Then we received word that Morgoth's spies had encircled the outer rim of the Tumladin. I felt my blood chill, as did the King's flowing over me in a second wave. Once again I heard the words of Ulmo – to flee Gondolin and make for the sea – suddenly clear in my mind. The King gave orders for preparations for war. My heart felt like a great anvil in my chest.

When I confided my feelings to Idril, she was no comfort.

I found her in our garden with Earendil. As the boy played at fighting imaginary orcs (as he had been told his father had done) Idril's face filled with fear.

"It is Maeglin who disturbs me more than ever," she spoke softly at my shoulder, so as not to disturb Earendil. "I do not know how or when, but I am afraid that he will bring disaster upon Gondolin. We must keep our doings secret from him so that he cannot pass any information on to the enemy. There will be some weakness in our defences that we are not aware of."

Then she suddenly began to sob so that I took her in my arms to comfort her.

"I dreamt that Maeglin built a big furnace, and then captured us by surprise," she gasped into my shoulder. "Then he threw Earendil into the furnace and was about to throw us in as well and because Earendil was dead, I did not care."

"My wife," I tried to soothe her. "I understand your unease concerning Maeglin. But he is your cousin and the King's nephew. We cannot accuse him without cause."

I thought of that day over a year ago. Maeglin caught in disobedience to the King, but the King refusing to believe any ill of his nephew. We would need irrefutable evidence if we did not wish to find ourselves on charges of treason.

It was then that Idril told me of her plans for a secret tunnel. One that would lead us to escape right under the nose of the enemy – where he would least expect us to go. I wondered if there would be enough time – the foundations of Gondolin are very hard – but she insisted that there must be. It was our only hope of survival.

We only took those we knew we could trust into confidence. We had to be sure that no information got to Maeglin's ears, or any of his followers. And those he had in plenty – the chief of whom was a very unpleasant fellow named Salgant. (I had been repulsed his fawning behaviour in the first month of my arrival in Gondolin.) Each day I lived in fear of discovery.

And my heart ached that we could not include the one that Idril and I loved most outside our household. Turgon, King of Gondolin, called the wise, father of my wife and father of my heart would be dragged to his doom and there was nothing we could do to prevent it.

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**Sorry for the long delay folks. Please R&R!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Year 509**

At first no one thought anything of it. Maeglin often disappeared for a week or two, especially since Earendil's birth.

And there was much else to hold my attention. My son, the daughter-son of the King, grew into a robust and energetic child, bringing outbreaks of smiles everywhere he went. Even the King's eyes would twinkle at the boy's antics and I found that this warmed my heart also. The only grief we had was the news of the fall of Menegroth at last, and the death of Dior and his family. Idril was especially distressed, as these were the only beings living who were anything like Earendil and now her son was completely unique in all the world. He had never had the opportunity to make their acquaintance. We would have no one on whom to gauge Earendil's future – how long would he live? Would he suffer illness? For myself, my blood ran cold at the thought of the brothers, the sons of Feanor, ruthlessly and desperately attempting to fulfil a dark oath. It seemed odd to me that the King registered little reaction to the news. He only smiled faintly as he sipped at his evening cup of wine. He supposed he had nothing to fear from the sons of Feanor.

So while Idril and I could in no way escape our anxiety for the future of Gondolin, Turgon the wise seemed more and more at ease and untroubled. Even Maeglin's absences seemed to have no effect on him. I found myself less and less in the King's company – to my shame, for else I could have perhaps prevented what was to come. But Salgant was forever at the King's knee, heel or shoulder and Salgant's company I could not long endure.

I fretted for Turgon, whose mood of late seemed so strange. Until one morn when I had occasion to chase Earendil around our garden in a game of Orcs and Elves. (We were both elven hunters on the trail of some evil spies. Idril finds such games peculiar. Perhaps the Eldar do not play at war as children, but she indulged her son in this as she did with many things.) We had just stopped for a rest from our quest and were enjoying refreshments of milk and cakes together when my son pursed his small brow and looked at me.

"Does Mama put special tonic in my milk?" he asked.

"Your Mama puts nothing in your milk but milk. Why would she put in anything extra?" I asked.

"Only Mother- Father has extra in his drinks, so I thought that all should have them."

I felt a small stab of alarm. Could the king be concealing some kind of illness from us?

"What kind of 'tonic' does the king have in his drink?" I asked.

"I don't know. I saw the Lord Salgant put some powder in his wine when he thought no one else saw. But I saw. I asked him about it and he said it was to help Mother-Father, but it was a secret and I was not to tell anyone. But I'm sure he did not mean a secret from you, Father."

I felt the milk in my stomach sour. I had a sudden urge to choke the life out of Salgant with my bare hands. I looked at Idril. I had never seen her face so pale and still.

"It's a sedative, and hopefully no more," she said. "Some has gone missing from the stores. I did not think it was serious…oh, Father, what are they doing to you?"

I wanted to alert the King immediately, but Idril stopped me. She suspected that this 'poisoning' was at the behest of Maeglin, but that since he was not presently in the city, we could not directly accuse him. He had conveniently given this task to one of his sycophants to insulate himself from any guilt, should the crime be discovered. We would still have to bide our time against our true enemy. I promised my wife that Salgant would receive his due when the time came, though as events turned, I did not have to deliver his fate.

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From that day I contrived to be with the King as often as possible, enduring Salgant's company for as long as I could. I intercepted the potioned wine on several occasions but not all, leading to something of an improvement in the King's attentiveness. I hoped it would be enough.

It was a morning when Salgant was amusing the King with some ridiculous song about the social habits of butterflies when Maeglin returned.

I felt myself standing, measuring the man, picturing in my mind several possible torture methods involving separating his limbs from his body one at a time. I willed him to give me any excuse to carry them out. But Maeglin smiled sweetly at me and bowed before the King.

"My Lord, we have had a most productive mining expedition," his voice seemed to be well-lubricated. I wondered what he had imbibed to give that effect. "We will be able to complete the works we have begun beautifying the King's city."

I looked at Turgon, willing him to see…something that would confirm Maeglin's guilt. But instead he smiled at his sister-son warmly.

"You have done well, Maeglin," he said too slowly for my liking.

But Maeglin seemed pleased as he flashed a quick glance at Salgant who was sitting on the stair at the King's feet. His self-satisfied swagger as he approached brought angry bile to my throat – until he came within arm's reach.

A pit of darkness and horror opened up in my chest. My lungs felt paralysed by fear and revulsion. The very oxygen in the room seemed to have depleted, making me gasp. I stared at him, but he only smiled. It was like looking into the eyes of a nameless thing of the deep: it meant to hypnotise me before it could devour me. I recalled that Maeglin had been gone much longer than usual on his latest mining expedition.

_What have you done, Maeglin?_ I wanted to scream. _What horror or treachery are you hiding?_

I made my excuses to the King and returned to Idril. I knew she would be in need of consolation and I was in need of her counsel.

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Please R&R!


	10. Chapter 10

**Year 510**

Preparations were well under way for the Gates of Summer festival, but Idril and I had little involvement in them, which worked against us in the favour of the people. It took all our energy and self-will to keep our actions calm and our faces pleasant. If that was the game that Maeglin wanted to play, well, so be it, but we could not spare any one of our house to assist the festivities. Idril was as restless as a caged eagle, requesting report on the secret way daily. Yet as the summer festivals approached, the tunnel only reached half way across the plain. We would have a great deal of open ground to cross if the escape was needed soon.

To my alarm, the King had done nothing other than reduce the watch (at Maeglin's suggestion) and becoming more and more withdrawn from the concerns of his realm, leaving much of the governance to either Maeglin or myself.

These duties my wife's kinsman performed without fault, giving me no excuse to accuse him. But to be in his company made me feel as if my under-tunic was full of woodlice. My only relief was when he was away working in his underground workshop.

The change in the King wrung at my heart. Quiet and even morose, except for outbursts of temper, I hardly recognised the man I knew. I longed to simply burst out with the news of all we knew and suspected of our kinsman, but Idril would not permit me. Idril's intuitions are never astray and she knew her father better than any.

The day before the great feast I spent in the King's tower.

"I have been told that you have refused to assist with the preparations for this evening, Tuor. How is it that the great Captain of the House of the Wing and husband to my own daughter refuses to find joy for the people of Gondolin?"

His back was to me, gazing out over Tumladen. I was grateful that he would not be able to read the truth in my face. I could not find my voice for a long time.

"Has Maeglin felt he had cause to complain?" I tried not to provoke the King's anger, but my blood was like molten steel.

"What does it matter who brings complaint to me? Is it true?" the King suddenly turned and for a moment I did not recognise him. His face was a confusion of emotion – anger and sorrow – bizarre on the face of one of the Eldar race.

I stepped back a pace unable to answer, and the King's face softened again into the familiar lines of one who has had much sleep but little rest. How I wanted to take him from this place to somewhere he might be able to rest and heal – away from Maeglin and his cohorts – where he might remember the love of his daughter, her son and myself.

"My King," I kept my voice steady, "My house has been occupied with many repairs and refurbishments to accommodate Earendil's needs. I was not aware that the servants preparing the feast were so understaffed?" I hoped by using Earendil as an excuse that I might sway the King's mood. May the powers forgive me for this small untruth.

The King stared at me for a few moments and then seemed to fold down into a window seat.

I had not been dismissed, so I remained, standing.

"How fares the boy?" the King asked at last, tenderness returning to his voice. He again became the kindly and gentle Lord that I remembered.

"He is a fast growing lad, adventurous and energetic, much to his mother's dismay." I said. Idril did not approve of Earendil's inclination for climbing the highest of trees.

The King laughed, something I had not heard him do for a long time. It occurred to me then that twice today I had marked his behaviour over the last year or so as unusual. Behaviour that was uncharacteristic of the Eldar – displays of intense anger or sadness that came frequently and laughter that came seldom. The Eldar are usually more wont to be the other way around!

I sensed that the King was about to speak further when we were interrupted.

A commotion behind me announced a scout. He burst into the room, past the door wards and almost collapsed gasping onto the floor. A feeling of clammy dread had fully infiltrated my skin long before the man had recovered the ability to speak.

Burning glow to the north. Snow on the mountains turning blood red.

Morgoth had come.

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It was I, Ecthelion, Galdor, Duilin, Pengolodh (who afterwards wrote the account of this day that is well known) and others whose names I do not remember, who counselled the King to flee. It was already obvious that we were outmatched. Yet the King hesitated.

I stared at him, waiting for the order to evacuate. Surely even in his befuddled state he could see…

"O King," Maeglin's voice grated on my skin, "the city of Gondolin contains much treasure that is dear to us and beautiful. These others" – here he indicated me – "who are brave but less wise would leave these to the enemy. The Balrogs will carry off a fortune in wealth."

The King groaned like a man wounded to the gut – dying slowly in agony. Maeglin knew just what to say. I wanted to kill him then and there.

Maeglin was encouraged by the King's response. With his head bowed to his knees, the King could not see his sister-son's smirk.

"Have you not worked for many years in the building of the defences?" Maeglin continued assuredly. "Are our weapons and arrows so worthless that you will abandon them and throw yourself naked to the enemy to be trampled under their feet?"

Salgant quickly supported him and to my dismay and everlasting grief, the King accepted Maeglin's counsel. The rest of us protested and argued, but this only seemed to make him more resolved. Finally, the King ordered everyone to the defence of the walls.

Desperation can do terrible things to a man, and when that man is a King, he leads many others to a desperate fate. I could contain myself no longer. Great sobs escaped my already heavy chest and tears gushed down my cheeks. I could do nothing but depart quickly from the King's Hall. To the Noldor this would have been a childish display of emotion, but I did not care.

Gondolin's doom was sealed and so was the doom of its king. I saw the King only once again after this, and I shall never forget it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Year 510 – The Hideous Day**

Idril was readying a few belongings, mostly food and water. Earendil frowned from an armchair, dressed in the mithril mail tunic that I had made for him for our games. It seemed absurdly gaudy in the hazy light. Seeing them was all that I needed to strengthen me.

"Idril," I said; then faltered. How could I leave them?

She stopped what she was doing and handed some of the baggage to our housecarl.

"My husband," she looked at me with drowning eyes. "You must go. You cannot leave the city's defence un-represented by the House of the Wing. We will meet again before we take the tunnel."

Idril, the most ideal of wives! Nothing ever needed to be explained to her!

There was nothing more to be said, so I cupped Earendil's quivering chin and left to join my men and to discover exactly what strength Morgoth had unleashed against us.

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It looked as if we might even win the day. Even Morgoth's mightiest war machines and balrogs could not get over the city wall.

But then Gothmog led the assault against the North Gate where Rog and Galdor were stationed. Never had I seen such iron beasts such as were pitted against those brave Eldar. I yearned to go to their aid, but a warning of my heart drove me back to Idril again. They would need to leave much earlier than I had thought.

As I approached our house my heart almost became as stone . Around the door pressed a grim mob of not orcs, but Eldar. Men of the House of the Mole. Maeglin had already made his move. Hot fury rose within me as I imagined Maeglin with Idril. I began to charge them, shrieking I know not what, thinking that Idril and Earendil were still inside. Then my sergeant called and pointed. I looked and saw Maeglin with Earendil under one arm. My beloved son's face was streaked with furious tears as they disappeared towards the Caragdur. Meaglin's other hand was tangled in a fistful of Idril's golden hair.

"_Maeglin!_" my voice suddenly seemed to drown out all the other sounds of battle and for a moment all seemed to still. Including Maeglin. Just enough time for my men to catch up with his.

The greatest absurdity of that day was this sudden battle between the House of the Wing and the House of the Mole, while the hosts of Morgoth battered the walls of the City of Gondolin.

But the rage was upon me, lending me strength that I had never before known. Idril and Earendil, seeing me approach renewed their struggles against their kinsman. To my pride, Earendil sank his teeth into his cousin's forearm, eliciting a shocked cry and turning Maeglin's knife so that it merely grazed his mail-coat. This gave me barely enough time to engage him and defend my family, who were more to me than the whole city and all its treasures. As we fought, I realised that Maeglin was not going to permit himself to be captured. A final over-confident lunge on his part was all I needed. I caught his arm in a hold I had learned from the outlaws that I correctly guessed Maeglin was unfamiliar with. One quick jerk and I felt the bone give a satisfying snap. Maeglin cried out, clutching his wounded limb to his chest with his other arm and I had the advantage.

I dealt to him the fate he had planned for Earendil. I watched his fall to make sure. Three times his body hit the cliff before it was engulfed by flames below.

Maeglin's men did not seem to care. They came at us ferociously, so that the warriors of the Wing were at first overpowered. But in my mind, I could still see Maeglin slicing the knife towards Earendil's throat and clawing at Idril. Rage that was so hot that I thought it would burn through me, yet was at the same time white and cold, gave me the strength of ten Eldar and the House of the Mole was overpowered. The last of Meaglin's men either followed him over the cliff or fled. Victory over the traitors was ours and Idril and Earendil were safe.

The sound of fierce battle at the North Gate was our tribute. I charged Voronwe with getting Idril and Earendil to safety. Idril protested, but I could not forget the great metal beasts and their deadly cargo of orcs spilling towards the defenders. I had to return for Galdor and Rog. Part of me still clung to the feeble hope that somehow the city could be saved.

My men and I arrived to a scene far grimmer than I had hoped. Corpses of both the Gondolindrim and the enemy lay everywhere, but while there only seemed to be more and more orcs and fell beasts of Morgoth, the ranks of the Eldar diminished. I beheld the last valiant charge of Rog's warriors, battling even the drakes and the Balrogs, each man taking seven of the enemy to meet whatever fate awaits them after death. But Rog's death brought such grief to those warriors left that they retreated further into the city.

Capture of the city square cost the enemy dearly, until their bodies were piled up. It was now that the very last reserve warriors of the city rode to battle, led by Ecthelion. Even amidst the burning and the smoke, they were beautiful in their silver and crystal. I saw no sign of the King himself and realised that he must still be in his tower. My men and I allied ourselves with Ecthelion's warriors and despite my effort, Ecthelion was lost, though not without great cost to the enemy. I would not have survived if not for Galdor's men, for the strength that had so filled me earlier had now gone and I was weary. We were pushed back to the King's square and when we were joined by the warriors of the other houses, I knew that this was to be our last stand.

At last I found myself standing in the very place that I had delivered my message to the King more than a decade ago. And to my shock, there stood the king himself upon the stairs, as he had that day.

This was when my heart almost failed me – despite what I had witnessed already.

The King watched the scene around him but made no move to join the fighting. The brightness of his garments and crown exaggerated the deep lines and downcast eyes. The King straightened stooped shoulders and held up a shaking hand.

"'Great is the Fall of Gondolin, '" he said, quoting a seer of long ago.

Nothing I said could persuade him to either lead his people or flee the city. He removed his crown and threw it down where it dented against the flagstones. Then he returned to his tower to witness the destruction from above. The city was lost.

Then I remembered the women and children hiding in the palace and I could keep the Secret Way secret, no longer. I quickly instructed the guards, then found the King.

But the King was as lost to us as the city and my pleas were futile.

"Let Tuor lead," he ordered the others. "I will not leave my city. I must burn with it."

Again and again messengers pleaded with him, but to no avail, until he reinforced his commands with threat. Yet still I lingered. Alone with the shell of a great Elda, broken and beloved, gazing out over his realm like one ensnared by Morgoth's spells.

"Tuor," he said and I started. I did not realise he knew I was still there. "You must go and I must stay. Do you think the enemy will let me escape?"

He turned and my heart began to hope despite his words. His eyes and countenance were clearer and more resolved than I had seen them for some time. I began to speak but he held up his hand and so stern was his face that I was silent.

"I will stand at the window, where all may see. It is my hope that this will draw the enemy here. You must take Idril and Earendil by your Secret Way."

Yet at this moment I was more loath to leave him than ever.

"Go!" he commanded. "While there still might be time."

Something in the force of his words propelled me into action. I left the room, my heat torn but full of resolve.

When I looked back, he was still watching me and despair and love mingled together on that sweet face, but then he turned to the appalling scene below.

I passed the last of the House Guard as I left the tower. Those too loyal to the King to leave him, even now. I could have done no less if not for Idril and Earendil.

I passed from the King's Square and back to where I had left Idril. The enemy did little to oppose me, for as the King had predicted, they were focussing their assault upon the tower. My face was so streaked with dirt, ash and tears that Idril did not recognise me.

"Idril," I said taking her shoulders. "It is I. I live." Her eyes were still fixed over my head upon the King's Tower – did the keen sight of the Eldar allow her eyes to spy the King? Could their eyes meet? Oh, the cruelty of the Eldar life! I said: "I will rescue your father, even if he be captive in the Hells of Morgoth!"

I turned to run back to the tower alone, but Idril threw her arms around my knees, saving me from certain death, for at that moment there was an explosion and the tower was engulfed in flames before it collapsed, showering us in cinders and debris. The orcs and other beasts shrieked with demented pleasure and enjoined in a sickening revelry, celebrating their victory. Our last chance was dearly bought.

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And so ended the King of Gondolin. It occurred to me that he died not only as a king, but as a loving father, sacrificing himself to give his chief treasures hope for survival. Sad is the stubbornness of those we love – yet it was a valiant fault. I can not ever forget seeing him for the last time, so bereft of hope for himself but still mindful of the safety of his children. It is this image that haunts my dreams and memories. I do not share this detail with Idril. She has enough grief. And I have the gift of a mortal memory that blurs with time so that the pain is faded. Not so for Idril.

In time we slowly accounted for all those who were lost in Gondolin. It was a very long list indeed. Only one we are unsure of – Salgant, the lackey of Maeglin. We have only heard rumour that he was taken captive and made the fool of Morgoth's court – a fate far worse than death that might endure for ages of an Elda's life. I have yet to find much pity in my heart.

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**_We Finally come to the end of this story. Apologies for the delay, but illness has kept me from even those things I enjoy most. Please R&R!_**


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